“Which means, one way or another, an end of this show.”
Larry’s bluntness left the other unaffected.
“One way or another, maybe,” Jim agreed. “You see, boy, there’s that poor little kid up there now, and it’s made a difference—a hell of a difference—to the way I see things.”
“See here, Jim,” Larry replied sharply. “There’s two clear things I see. McFardell’s got to be fixed so he can’t do the thing he wants, or you’ve got to close right down here and get out. That’s the situation as I see it. Lightning reckons he was followed here, which means McFardell’s located the tunnel. He’s no doubt located the valley by now. Well, what next?” He made an expressive gesture. “The game’s up—right up. Unless, of course—— No, Jim, boy, the other’s not for you, even for this kid, Molly Marton. You belong to us—Blanche and me. There’s better than that waiting on you. McFardell deserves anything he gets, but don’t let it come from you. Close down this outfit and make a break for a new world. Blanche and I are right with you. We’ll stick by you with the last ounce in us.”
The man’s freckled face was deadly serious, and his manner was urgent. But, for all their apparent effect, his words might have remained unuttered. Jim raised a hand, pointing at the verandah they were approaching.
“The Doc’s waiting on us,” he said.
Further protest or appeal was useless. Larry knew too well the headlong recklessness that governed this impulsive brother of the woman he was to marry. He felt he had said all, and perhaps even more than he should have said. He even felt that if he left well alone his protest might actually bear some measure of fruit. At any rate he had made it, and now he could only watch and wait, and, in so far as lay within his power, do his best to protect this absurd creature from his own loyal impulses.
As the two men approached the verandah both became absorbed in the thing that was awaiting them. The dark-faced, quick-eyed Doc Lennox was there. So was the overshadowing figure of Lightning. The latter regarded them in the unseeing fashion of a mind oblivious to the things he beheld.
“Well, Doc? Is it good news, or—bad?”
Jim stepped briskly on to the verandah, while Larry remained below. Jim removed his broad-brimmed hat and flung it on the table. Then he ran his fingers back through his white hair.